


Whump Wars

by pyrrhicvic



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Barba has a really bad time, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, Whump, probably be updated very sporadically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhicvic/pseuds/pyrrhicvic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of mini-fics from my ongoing whump wars, in which Barba generally is not a happy camper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1: Barba gets very sick.

Barba rarely gets sick. When he was little, his  _mamí_  used to say fondly as she tucked him into bed that it was because he was so stubborn; Barba believes instead that it stems from sheer hatred of being incapacitated. Whatever the cause, he can count on one hand the number of times he has gotten anything worse than a cold.

It doesn’t concern him, therefore, when he feels a tickling in the back of his throat during his closing statement of an open-and-shut rape case. He merely coughs politely, nods at the head juror, and continues. The jury takes less than half an hour to convict the defendant, and Barba can’t suppress a smug smile as he packs up his briefcase. And if he coughs a couple more times on the way back to his office, well, it’s cold outside, people are getting colds, and he can stop by the drugstore after work.

But the cold doesn’t go away, much to Barba’s annoyance, and what started as barely a thought in the back of his mind is turning into a problem. A week later, there are circles growing under his eyes, he knows he’s paler than he probably should be, and, in a final insult, his secretary doesn’t even wait until the end of the day before suggesting quietly that maybe he’d like to take tomorrow off. The look he sends her quickly sends her scurrying, but the damage is done to his mood, and he slams the door behind him in a fit of childish anger before dropping into his chair. 

Rubbing at his temples in a futile attempt to alleviate his growing headache, he is just popping a few aspirin when Olivia marches into his office. “Your secretary looks like she’s afraid your door might grow legs and eat her.” She announces by way of greeting, closing said door much more gently than he had. “What did you do, and is it related to the reason you’re downing half a pharmacy?” She raises an eyebrow at the pill bottle in his hand.

He scoffs as he tucks it back into his desk drawer. “I’m fine, and I didn’t do anything- not that it’s any of your business.” Her eyebrow just goes higher as he defiantly meets her gaze, and to his shame, he only lasts for a moment before he has to look away. Olivia was always more than a match for him anyways. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he mutters instead, rubbing his head a little bit harder. “Just a bad day and a headache, that’s all.” Liv’s eyebrow doesn’t go down, but after a moment she starts rattling off the details of their latest case, spreading files across his desk as she talks. Barba knows she is humoring him, even as he leans forward and asks all the appropriate questions, but his head really hurts and he’ll take what he can get.

They finally finish an hour later. “See you in the morning?” Olivia asks as she gathers her things, and Barba can barely find it in himself to nod. He is so, so tired, and he notices belatedly that Olivia looks concerned.  _Shit_. “Listen, Rafael…” she begins, but he waves her off.

“It’s fine, really.” He says unconvincingly. He winces internally, puts on what he hopes is a slightly more convincing face, and tries again. “I’m just really tired.” He attempts a smile, and then thinks better of it. Olivia looks at him like he’s grown a third head, and he wracks his brain for anything else. “I think after some sleep I’ll be okay.”  _Third time’s the charm_? He thinks a little bit deliriously, but evidently there’s something to it, because Olivia’s nodding slowly, telling him to call if he needs anything at all, and making her way to the door. She glances back a few times more than she usually might, but then she is gone, and all Barba can think about is making it to the sofa before he passes out.

 

* * *

 

The next thing he is aware of is a loud, insistent buzzing by his ear. He groans and swats at it, but when it doesn’t stop, pries his eyelids apart and fumbles for the culprit. The phone is at his ear before he even registers what it is. “H’llo?” He mumbles, forgoing his usual greeting while he presses his face into the cool leather of his couch, and there is a second of silence on the other end. 

“…Barba?” Comes a male voice.  _Amaro_ , a helpful voice in his head supplies.  _Why is Amaro calling_? He wonders, and then it hits him.

“The meeting-“ He gasps, sitting up fast, and shit, the world was spinning. He takes a moment to get his bearing, and then pushes up his sleeve to check his watch. 9:20 am- had he really slept through the entire night on his office couch? But that was definitely Amaro’s voice in his ear, telling him it’s fine, but if he could get down to the precinct as fast as he could that would be great, and would they see him soon?

He mutters a distracted affirmation and hangs up the phone. It takes him three tries to get up off the couch, and he’s aware he’s not thinking a hundred percent straight, but he figures as long as he can make it through the morning he can work things out from there. Besides, he’s already twenty minutes late to this meeting, and he needs to move.

He doesn’t quite know how he does it, but half an hour later he’s slumped in the back of a cab as his secretary slowly disappears from view in the mirror, wringing her hands and looking like she’s about a half-second away from calling emergency services on him. Barba can’t quite bring himself to care.

Time seems to slip by, oddly fluid, and he blinks and he’s standing outside the precinct, staring up at the stairs. Another blink and he’s in the elevator, and is he trembling? He can’t tell, but another cop, one he doesn’t know, is staring at him and the thought crosses his mind that maybe he’s a little more sick than he had originally believed.

The elevator doors are sliding open, though, so he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Why is he here again? To see Olivia, that’s right. He takes a step off the elevator and stops, swaying.  _Liv. Find Liv_. He blinks again, and there’s someone at his arm, talking to him, but it’s not Olivia so he doesn’t turn to look. He takes another step, sways more violently, and the person at his arm now  _has_  his arm and he’s shouting something across the precinct. Barba makes a half-hearted attempt to shrug him off, because he really needs to find Liv, but the man isn’t letting go and Jesus, doesn’t he have better things to do?

But finally, finally, there’s Liv jogging toward him with a very strange look on her face, and Barba has the fleeting thought that she’s angry with him. But he can’t bring himself to care, because she’s there in front of him, and now it’s her hands on his arms, both of them, and the man is letting go (it’s Amaro, he recognizes distantly, Amaro is the one that had been holding on to him), and Barba can finally relax.

Olivia isn’t relaxing, though, and it takes him a minute to notice that his perspective has shifted, and now he’s somehow looking  _up_ at her. He frowns, because he’s on the ground and this is going to wreak havoc on his suit, but overall he can’t be too upset, he really feels much better, and he just wishes Olivia would stop yelling. And tapping his face as well, she’s started doing that now, and come on, that’s just rude. He decides to shut his eyes for a bit, and Olivia seems to get louder for a bit before everything goes suddenly, blissfully quiet. 

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, some time later, it’s still quiet. There are a few moments of disorientation before he realizes he’s in a hospital- white wall, white door, white bedspread- and that his left arm  _hurts_. He glances down at it to find there’s a brown mass obscuring his view. “…Liv?” He tries, making a guess. It comes out as a croak, but the mass jumps, and he was right, it seems. Olivia sits up, disheveled as he has ever seen her, and they stare at each other for a second.

"You  _idiot_ -” she starts, and Barba makes out a few words about  _infection, really sick, you could have died_ , but to be honest, he isn’t really listening much. The fact that someone is in the hospital room with him, has been in the room with him, gives him a funny little feeling in his stomach. So instead of listening, he watches, and when she reaches a point where she has to stop for breath, reaches out a hand and gently touches hers.

"Olivia," he manages, and tries to smile. She stops, looks at him for a long time, and he really does smile. "Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barba has a really bad night at a club.

When Barba ducked into the bar from off the street, his only thought was getting in out of the rain. Water didn’t mix well with two thousand dollar suits, and he really didn’t want to make another trip to the dry cleaners this week. As he brushed fat droplets of water from his jacket sleeves, stepping inside, he glanced around at his surroundings. It was really more of a club than a bar, he realized, and definitely not somewhere he’d been before, but the music wasn’t too loud, there weren’t as many flashing lights as there could be, and it almost certainly served alcohol, so after a moment’s consideration, he slipped off his (slightly damp, damn it) jacket and made his way to the side of the room.

There was an attractive brunette sitting alone halfway down the bar, and for a minute, Barba considered it. He knew he was at least moderately attractive, and he wasn’t unaware of the effect his suits often had on members of the opposite sex- if he turned on the charm, he could probably avoid going home alone.

Instead, he slid into a seat at the very end, closest to the door, and grimaced as he motioned to the bartender. He really was getting too old for this, he thought, if the notion of getting a pretty girl into bed wasn’t nearly as enticing as it used to be. Now he worried about  _connecting_  with someone. Who gave a shit, it was sex, he tried to tell himself, but still, he didn’t move any closer. He grimaced again.

He was still sipping his first scotch, ruminating on the pitfalls of middle age, when a voice cut through his musings. “Well, hello there.” He raised an eyebrow and turned to find a tall blonde with legs that went on forever standing behind him, motioning to the adjacent seat. “This one taken?”

Well, he might not go chasing flirtations, but he wasn’t going to turn down such easy pickings. “Not at all.” He smirked, and watched her sit down. “Can I get you something?”

It was easy, he thought as they settled into preliminary conversation, sipping their respective drinks. This was easy, he was good at this- the smooth charm, the lingering smiles, the appropriate laughter at the appropriate time- this was something he knew, and did well. She was smiling at him, batting her eyelashes and leaning closer and closer, and he had the triumphant thought that even for him, this was moving quickly. 

The blonde (Sara, he thinks, although he isn’t sure) was just reaching out to put her arm on his leg, when- 

“ _Barba_?” The voice was incredulous, and he whipped around to find who of all people but  _Rollins_  staring at him, her shoulders wet, clearly just having come in from the rain. “What are  _you_  doing here?” Her gaze was a little more surprised than Barba found flattering- he does have a life outside work, thank you very much- and he made a split-second decision.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He retorted, annoyed, but turned to Sara anyway. “Excuse me a second?” He asked her, and was surprised to see something flash in her eyes before she nodded. He frowned a little, confused, but the look was gone as fast as it came, and he mentally shrugged it off as he pushed himself out of his seat.

Rollins didn’t resist when he took her arm to lead her out of earshot, and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Listen,” he began, “we’re both adults.” She opened her mouth, but he talked over her. “We both drink, we both have at least a semblance of a social life, and we are in the same club tonight. Is that going to be a problem?” She opened her mouth again, he raised an eyebrow, and she closed it.

“No, no problem.” She finally murmured, cheeks a little pinker than normal. “Sorry. Seeing you was just… unexpected, I guess.” Barba still didn’t find that flattering, but he let it slide, and Rollins gestured vaguely behind her. “I’m just gonna…” she said awkwardly, and turned around and disappeared before Barba could say anything else. He sighed. 

Turning back to Sara, he found her staring intently at him, and for some reason, it was a little bit less alluring than before. In fact, everything seemed a little off now, from the way she shifted closer as soon as he sat back down, to the way she traced the edge of his hand with her pinky finger as she told him about her cat. He picked up his glass as an excuse to get some distance, taking another sip as her hand retreated slightly. She had gotten a refill for him while he was talking to Rollins, he noticed. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated that or not.

As Sara continued to talk to him, Barba finished his scotch and motioned to the bartender again. “A water this time, I think.” He murmured, pulling at his collar a bit. Sara kept talking about her cat, or did she have a dog too? He had lost track. It was getting a bit warm in the room, and he blinked hard.

She was sitting closer than she had been, too. There was barely an inch of distance between their legs, and when had that happened? He frowned and tried to shuffle away a bit, but his limbs didn’t seem to be cooperating with him, and all he managed to do was nearly fall off his barstool. Sara caught him with a surprisingly strong arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she was saying into his ear, and the thought popped into his head that she didn’t seem at all surprised at his lack of coordination. He hadn’t had that much to drink, he thought stupidly, and shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” He told her slowly. Something wasn’t right. But Sara ignored him, continuing to help him up, and then she was draping his jacket over his shoulders and leading him to the door. He let her lead him, unable to think of a concrete reason not to. “I don’t think…” He tried again, and this time she shushed him.

“I bet you’re great in bed.” She told him, shooting him a look that made him want to wash his hands. 

He shivered. “That’s not right, you shouldn’t…” He tried to remember how that sentence should end. “It’s not right.” He said instead, sure of that at least. She was still pushing him towards the door, and suddenly he was very certain that he did not want to go there with her. He attempted to plant his feet, but it seemed to have no effect, and Sara just chuckled.

“Is there a problem here?” Came a voice, and suddenly they were stopping. Barba wanted to hug whomever had spoken, and look, it was Rollins. Could he hug Rollins? He wasn’t sure.

“Rollins.” He smiled widely at her, and her brows furrowed. What, was he not allowed to smile? “’s good to see you.” He looked at Sara and the smile dropped a little. “I don’t wanna leave.” He whispered conspiratorially to Rollins, who was looking more and more concerned. “Not…” he cleared his throat so he could whisper better, and then forgot the rest of his sentence. He frowned to himself.  _Not… not now? No…_

As he was trying to puzzle it out, he vaguely heard Rollins saying something to Sara, who was talking back and trying to lead him away again, and then Rollins mentioned NYPD and everything went very still. Suddenly, Sara wasn’t holding on to him anymore, and without the support, he swayed and took a stumbling step forward.

“Rollins.” He murmured again, because now his face was buried in someone’s shoulder and he was pretty sure it was hers. He searched for something else to say. “Hi.”

He could almost feel her roll her eyes. “Hi, Barba.” She muttered back. “You look like you’re having a great night.” He nodded into her shoulder, thought about, and then shook his head. 

“I don’t feel so hot.” He said conversationally, the words muffled by her shirt. The world was swimming around him.

“Yeah, that bitch slipped you something.” Rollins was saying. “Don’t worry, I’ll nail her for it, but we need to get you somewhere else.” She started for the door, and Barba stiffened. That was bad, he thought, he didn’t want to leave. Sara was trying to get him to leave.

“No.” He tried to pull back from Rollin’s shoulder, and merely ended up tangling their legs instead, nearly sending them both to the floor. Rollins cursed and stumbled, but Barba shook his head. “No.” He repeated.

Rollins stared at him for a second once their balance was regained, seeming to evaluate him. “Okay,” she said, “but we are going to need to get you out of the doorway.” She paused for a second. “Is the bathroom okay?”

Barba thought about it, and nodded. He could deal with a bathroom. 

The trip there was a blur, Rollins supporting him almost entirely across the dance floor, but then she was pushing open a door and yelling for the people inside to leave, police business. He didn’t think that was quite right, but he kept quiet, choosing instead to focus on the ongoing battle of staying upright. He felt himself being propped against a counter, and he pushed himself onto it (or Rollins pushed him onto it, really) gratefully.

“You’re a mess.” Rollins was muttering, righting him as he began to list sideways. “I’m going to call someone, okay?” He nodded, and she pulled out her phone. “Can you undo your tie?” She asked him as she lifted it to her ear. “You’ll be more comfortable.” 

Barba looked down at the offending garment and considered it. He must have considered it for a while, because Rollins was talking to him, off the phone now, raising her eyebrows at him. When he didn’t respond fast enough, she rolled her eyes again and her hands moved up to his neck and the fabric there.

“You and your stupid ties…” She was saying, and her face was very close to his. Barba studied it for a while, watched her narrow her eyes at the stubborn knot around his neck, and before he knew what he was doing, leaned forward and kissed her.

Rollins froze immediately, and to be fair, it wasn’t a very good kiss. He had missed most of her mouth, only the corner of their lips touching, and now their faces were just pressed together, unmoving. Barba wasn’t sure what to do next, and he wasn’t certain Rollins was doing any better.

Very slowly, he felt his head being pushed back toward the mirror behind him. He went easily, leaning his weight against it, and focused on Rollins, who was staring at him with an apprehensive expression on her face. “Isn’t this…” he murmured, dizzy. “Wha’ you do in club bathrooms?” He was very tired.

Rollins stared at him for a moment longer before a laugh escaped her and she and shook her head. “Sorry, Barba,” she began, going back to work on his tie, “but I really don’t think of you that way.” Barba nodded.

“Me neither.” He said truthfully. “Think of you tha’ way, I mean.” Rollins glanced up and smiled at him, amused, and he tried to smile back. He wasn’t sure it turned out the way it was meant to, because Rollins’ smile turned into a snort, and he would be more offended if he weren’t so tired. 

He thinks later he must have dozed for a bit, because the next thing he knew there were people in uniforms in the bathroom with them, pulling up his eyelids and shining lights into his eyes. He gave Rollins a betrayed glance, because that was annoying, but she was telling him to let the paramedics do their job please, Barba, they’re only trying to help, and so he reluctantly let them pull him off the counter and onto a stretcher they had somehow gotten into the bathroom.

When they started wheeling him out, he looked around because suddenly he couldn’t see Rollins and he didn’t like that. “R’llins?” He tried to call, and he was having a really hard time talking, but made the effort anyways. “You… coming?”

“Only if you don’t try to kiss me again, Barba.” She appeared beside him, raising an eyebrow, and Barba wanted to smile. 

“Jus’ friends.” He agreed instead, and Rollins did smile.

“Yeah.” She said. “Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of my whump fic is up! This is the last one I have already written, so more will be coming as I write and finish them. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! As always, feel free to get in touch with any criticisms, comments, etc. I'm always accepting new prompts, and it'll probably encourage me to post a bit faster!


End file.
